Wrath Of The Goblins
by Thanos6
Summary: What if Norman Osborn and Roderick Kingsley had fought over control of Osborn Industries, with poor Spidey caught in the middle...?
1. Hostile Takeover

Spider-Man: Wrath Of The Goblins  
  
Hey everyone. Decided to try my hand at writing a Spidey fic. This story begins during the "Hobgoblin Lives" mini-series. If you haven't read it, it deals with corporate mogul Roderick Kingsley's attempt to takeover Osborn Industries, using his double identity as the Hobgoblin to help. Of course, Spidey thwarts this plan and finally captures him, clearing the name of Ned Leeds who for years had been believed to be the Hobgoblin.  
  
But...what if the Hobgoblin had gotten away with it? And what if Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin and former head of Osborn Industries (and who was still believed to be dead by almost everyone) had found out...?  
  
***  
  
"To whom the goblin, full of wrath, replied. -Milton."  
  
***  
  
Roderick Kingsley was a very shrewd businessman. It was rare that he missed a golden opportunity, and now was not one of those times.  
  
Betty Brant Leeds had just appeared on television, claiming to have rediscovered notes that her late husband, Ned Leeds, had left behind. She claimed that they would exonerate him of being the Hobgoblin. What they contained, Kingsley had no idea, but if they could indeed exonerate Leeds of being the Hobgoblin...then they could possibly implicate him as well.  
  
And that could not be allowed to happen.  
  
He stalked off to the secret back room where he kept his Hobgoblin equipment. He'd suit up, swoop down on his glider, snatch Betty Leeds, and be gone. He began to don the outfit. And paused.  
  
He'd been mind-controlling Leeds at the time of his death. If Leeds had had any other notes, besides the ones Kingsley had seized and destroyed, he would have told him about it. These notes couldn't possibly exist!  
  
The mogul snarled. This was a trap, it had to be. Set by Betty Leeds and the police to lure him out into the open. That infernal Spider-Man probably had a hand in this as well.  
  
He took off what he'd put on of the Hobgoblin costume. He wouldn't fall for it. Subtlety was clearly required here. He had contacts within the police department. If by some chance these notes were real, he could acquire them without needing to resort to such flashy tactics. And if they were indeed fake, then his takeover of Osborn Industries could go off without a hitch. As the Hobgoblin, he'd already murdered rival industrialist George Vandergill, threatened Senator Robert Martin, and destroyed an Osborn refinery to keep it on track; he would not be stopped now.  
  
***  
  
*Looks like the Hobgoblin didn't take the bait,* thought Peter Parker, the amazing Spider-Man. There had been no sign of the maniacial super-villain; the only trouble had been caused by former Daily Bugle reporter Jake Conover, who believed that the notes Betty Leeds had invented where actually the notes that Ned Leeds had borrowed from him years ago and never returned. He had come to demand them back, but after Peter, in costume, had intervened he had cooled off.  
  
*I'm kinda glad that the Hobgoblin didn't show up. Betty's making such a target of herself that it could be difficult to keep her safe. Still, this can't be easy for her. This was her main plan of capturing him. I don't know where to go from here.*  
  
Lieutenant Stone, of the NYPD's elite Code: Blue unit, and Betty Brant Leeds climbed into a police car waiting to escort them away from the press conference where she had made the announcement about her late husband's fake notes. Peter, who was watching from a rooftop, sighed in relief.  
  
*Well, Betty's in safe hands. I think it's time to call it a day on the goblin hunting.*  
  
***  
  
"WHAT?" roared Norman Osborn into the telephone. On the other end, Donald Menken winced. It would take all of his skill in deception and fawning to survive this.  
  
"I said, sir, that Osborn Industries is now owned by Kingsley International."  
  
"Dammit, Menken, how the hell did you let this happen? You were supposed to keep my company safe from takeover bids while I pretended to be dead."  
  
"I know, sir. I did my best, but my financial wizardry is no match for yours, or even for that of Roderick Kingsley. We're holding the official press conference tomorrow."  
  
Osborn growled, and Menken gulped. "I shouldn't have spent so much time over here in Europe, with this damn Scrier cult. I would have been able to prevent this, unlike YOU." There was silence, and the sound of the ruthless tycoon drumming his fingers. "I'll handle this. Just hold the conference tomorrow, and then after it's over, I'll see to Kingsley." Osborn hung up, and Menken sighed in relief. If his boss found out that in his role as executive vice-president of Osborn Industries, he'd secretly been Kingsley's co-conspirator in the takeover bid, his life-span could be measured in seconds.  
  
He supposed he should warn Kingsley of Osborn's plans, but he had no specifics on what they were. No, he decided, let Kingsley fend for himself...  
  
***  
  
After several minutes of fuming and gritting his teeth in the darkness of his opulent office, the one he occupied as a result of leading the Scriers, Norman Osborn came to a decision. His plans against Peter Parker were too important for him to get involved personally at the moment in this Kingsley situation. Fortunately, he had operatives that could handle this. He picked up his telephone and dialed one of them.  
  
"Brito? I have a job for you. His name is Roderick Kingsley."  
  
To be continued... 


	2. PreEmptive Strike

"How's Liz taking it?" Mary Jane, Peter's wife, asked the next day after the press conference.  
  
"Pretty well," Peter responded as he tried to desperately to salvage the steak he was beginning to ruin. "She never really relished running Osborn Industries, and she got a nice 'golden parachute.'" Liz Allan had been one of his first crushes in high school, but she'd ended up marrying Peter's friend Harry and became Liz Allan Osborn. After Harry (the second Green Goblin, who'd taken his father's role) had died saving her and their young son Normie, she had gained control of Osborn Industries.  
  
She had done quite a good job of it, too, right up until the moment when Donald Menken had informed her that Roderick Kingsley had seized control of the company. Peter and MJ supposed that she still hadn't quite gotten the hang of it, which was why Kingsley was able to make an end run around Menken's desperate attempts to stop him.  
  
"Well, hopefully she'll find something to do besides take care of Normie. An active woman like Liz needs to be busy."  
  
"You got that right," said Peter as he attempted an end run of his own around the steak. "But what's really suspicious is that both Menken and Kingsley are Hobgoblin suspects, and he's always been involved with rich industrialist types. I still remember when he tried to blackmail the Century Club..."  
  
"With any luck, he'll try something else and you can capture him, or at least get more clues. How's the steak coming?"  
  
Peter leaned his head in from the kitchen into the living room where MJ was sitting. "Maybe we should have chicken instead."  
  
***  
  
The entire limousine ride after the press conference, Roderick Kingsley's grin was wider than that of the cat who ate the proverbial canary.  
  
*The irony is too sweet,* he thought, lounging in the back seat. *The Hobgoblin has taken over all of the late Green Goblin's equipment and improved them. Now he shall do the same for his company!*  
  
As his driver guided the limo through the streets of Manhattan to Kingsley's country estate, the corporate raider reflected on how it had all began...  
  
It would be nice to say that it had all started innocently enough, but when it comes to Roderick Kingsley, that term is rarely applicable. A small-time thug named Georgie Hill, fleeing from Spider-Man, had discovered one of Norman Osborn's secret Green Goblin lairs. Knowing of Kingsley's underworld connections, Georgie had led the fashion mogul to it. They'd raided it of everything they could carry. Then, after killing Georgie, Kingsley had altered the costume and modified much of the equipment. The result was--the Hobgoblin!  
  
But his villainous career had almost been stillborn.  
  
On his very first outing, he'd run into Spider-Man, and it had taken all of his cunning just to escape. Even then he'd received some rather serious damage to his ribs. But he knew that the Green Goblin could go toe-to-toe with the webslinger in a physical contest. Osborn must have had a secret...  
  
And he'd discovered it, reading through Osborn's journals that he'd looted with everything else. Tucked away in one entry was the formula discovered by Osborn's old partner Mendel Stromm. It gave the recipient super-strength and enhanced intelligence. Kingsley knew that the first Goblin must have taken it, but he guessed that insanity was a side effect. So he'd tested it on a dupe named Lefty Donovan. After monitoring Donovan's body chemistry during a battle with Spider-Man, and killing him, he'd made alterations to the formula that removed the insanity effect.  
  
He'd bathed in the improved Goblin Formula...and made the Hobgoblin a true force to be reckoned with.  
  
"Sir, we've arrived," the driver said over the intercom, jarring him from his reminiscing.  
  
"Excellent. Go park." Kingsley stepped out of the limousine and unlocked the front door of his mansion. And paused. Something was wrong...he could feel it. He took several steps into his darkened residence.  
  
Suddenly a lasso snaked out of the gloom and grabbed him. There was a yank on the other end, and he fell to the ground. He saw five figures emerge from the gloom. Ronald "Ox" Bloch, he of the large muscles and low IQ; Jackson W. "Montana" Brice, undisputed master of the lariat and the man who had just pulled him to the floor; Willard "Hammer" Harrison, who loved to bludgeon opponents into unconsciousness with the weights on the ends of his fists; Sylvester "Snake" Marston, contortionist supreme; and the unofficial leader, "Fancy" Dan Brito, a diminuitive black belt in judo.  
  
The Enforcers, a team of henchmen for hire who had given even Spider-Man a run for his money.  
  
"Sorry 'bout this, Mister Kingsley," Montana said in his slow Texan drawl, "But I'm afraid someone wants you out of the picture."  
  
"Just don't try and resist and we'll make it painless. Well, as much as we can," said Fancy Dan. "The Ox here'll just snap your neck."  
  
"I think not." He flexed his muscles.  
  
"He snapped mah lariat!" Montana gasped, his trademark cigarette holder falling out of his mouth as his jaw dropped. Yes, the Enforcers had given Spider-Man a run for his money. But, then, the wallcrawler had to hold back and make sure didn't severely injure them.  
  
Roderick Kingsley had no such compunctions.  
  
"I'll get 'em for ya, Montana," said Ox. He charged at the tycoon, who stood up and, as the muscleman approached him grabbed him easily by his outreached fist and threw him over his back. Ox slammed into the opposite wall and slid down, unconscious. Suddenly Snake, who had been silently slithering behind him, jumped onto him and wrapped himself around Kingsley just like his namesake. Hammer approached and took a swing with his metal-enhanced fists, hitting him right in the face.  
  
He barely moved. As the slugger cursed in exasperation, he pried Snake off of him and, as he struggled to escape, used him to hit Hammer on the head. Both collapsed.  
  
Kingsley turned, to see Fancy Dan and Montana try to out-flank him. He punched Montana right in the gut, and as the lasso master fell, the sole conscious Enforcer attempted to grab his arm and flip the fashion mogul. Instead, he found a strong hand wrapped around his throat. Dan had no idea that Kingsley was this strong...he was almost superhuman...  
  
"Who sent you?" Roderick growled. When the martial artist made no reply, he tightened his grip.  
  
"O-Osborn..."  
  
"The woman?" This didn't seem like the kind of thing that she would do.  
  
"No...Nor-Norman Osborn..."  
  
"WHAT? Osborn's ALIVE?" He dropped Fancy Dan and gritted his teeth as he pondered this new information. Presuming he was telling the truth, how was Osborn alive? Was there some sort of side-effect of the formula? A healing factor? Now that he thought about it, his injuries did seem to heal a bit faster after he'd taken it...  
  
He shook his head; he'd have time to analyze this later. He looked down at the black belt. "You and the others will report back to Osborn. You will tell him that you failed. And from then on, you are in MY employ. Do you understand?" Fancy Dan nodded. "Good. Now be gone."  
  
As the leader tried to rouse his compatriots, Kingsley walked through his empty mansion, hiding a smile. He had always been cunning, but physically weak. His life had once been threatened by a supervillainness called Belladonna, and he'd been able to do nothing, except thank Spider-Man, of all people, for saving him.  
  
Which was why Georgie's discovery of the Green Goblin gear had been so welcome. And the Goblin formula more welcome still. At last he could crush those who attacked him physically. Never again would he be threatened.  
  
Except by Spider-Man. And now, apparently, the Green Goblin himself. But he held a trump card. He knew who the Goblin was. And he was willing to bet that Osborn did not know his other identity; the Enforcers' attack had been related to the takeover, to clear the way for Osborn to reclaim Osborn Industries.  
  
He entered his secret Hobgoblin room, hidden behind a false wall. First he would contact his spy network and use them to confirm or deny Fancy Dan's information. And then, he had two calls to make: to his brother Daniel Kingsley, and to Donald Menken. He would use them to strike back at Norman Osborn.  
  
The plan was already forming in his mind.  
  
To be continued... 


	3. Two Revenges

"KINGSLEY SURVIVED?!" roared Norman Osborn, flecks of foam flying from the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Yes sir," said Donald Menken. Even though he was on the other end of the phone on a different continent, Osborn could practically hear him cowering. "Th-The Enforcers said he took them apart almost effortlessly...and that they're working for him now."  
  
Menken's boss growled. The Enforcers had been working for him ever since the very first time he, as the Green Goblin, had fought Spider-Man (though they still had no clue he and the Goblin were one and the same). Though they could be easily replaced, losing his oldest supporters hurt far more as a symbol. Was he losing his grip? Allowing some upstart like Kingsley, a FASHION MOGUL of all things, to beat him at his own game? No. NO!  
  
"That's it. I'm coming over there to take care of Kingsley myself."  
  
"But, sir, your plans for Peter Parker--"  
  
"Those can wait. I cannot allow Kingsley to get away with this. I'll be in New York City by tomorrow." He hung up without another word. Arising from his seat, he stalked to his rather lavish personal quarters. He touched a secret switch on the underside of his bed, and a section of wall slid back to reveal the equipment of the Green Goblin. As he began to pack some of it, he remembered how it had all began...  
  
He'd been looking through the notes of his former partner Mendel Stromm, who had beem in prison for embezzling Osborn Industries funds. As he browsed, he stumbled across an experimental formula to boost a human's strength and intelligence. Out of curiousity, he'd mixed it together. It had turned green for a moment, and then literally exploded in his face.  
  
When he'd awoken, he had indeed gained incredible strength, and intelligence as well (the doctors claimed brain damage and insanity, but those fools were mistaken). He soon began to toy with the idea of becoming the ultimate costumed criminal, and eventually he'd decided to do it. He'd used his scientific expertise to construct his flying broomstick (later refitted into his Goblin Glider) and all his lovely surprises and tricks...pumpkin bombs, razor bats, asphyxiation ghosts, and more. Finally, he'd designed a costume...and the Green Goblin was born!  
  
He had fought Spider-Man a few times and learned his secret identity, which made their clashes all the more volatile. Then, he'd kidnapped his girlfriend Gwen Stacy, who had died in the ensuing conflict. Spider-Man's rage had actually frightened him a bit, which led to his nearly fatal mistake: he'd tried to hit the wall-crawler with the spike on his glider, but the hero had dodged and instead the spike had penetrated Osborn's chest.  
  
Incredibly, he hadn't died. The formula had apparently given him a limited healing factor. However, he allowed most of the world, Spider-Man included, to believe him dead for many years while he gained control of the Cult of the Scriers. Only recently had he revealed himself to his nemesis and some of his friends.  
  
And now, Roderick Kingsley would know as well...though not for very long...  
  
***  
  
"Kingsley? This is Menken. He's coming to America tomorrow, no doubt with his paraphernalia in tow."  
  
Roderick Kingsley disconnected, then called his brother Daniel. He'd had Daniel, almost identical, impersonate him several times. Sometimes it was so that everyone would see the Hobgoblin and "Roderick" together, other times just to draw some heat. Daniel was practically spineless and always bowed to his younger brother's commands.  
  
"Hello Daniel. Time to play me again..."  
  
***  
  
The Green Goblin rode his glider above the rooftops of New York City, making very little sound. It had been far too long since he had done this. Since he had reveled in the power and freedom that being the Goblin brought. Perhaps it was time to remind this metropolis's residents who their master was...  
  
No. There would be time for that later. Right now he had to pay a visit to Kingsley. He soared toward the top of the skyscraper that was home to Kingsley Internation, and peered in through the large window. Sure enough, there was Kingsley seated at a desk, his back to the window.  
  
The Goblin hurled a pumpkin bomb, destroying the window. He was sure that it would attract Spider-Man. Well, let him come. Yes, he had plans for his arch-foe, but not so important that he couldn't be killed if the opportunity presented itself. As the smoke cleared, the form of Kingsley began to reappear. The man was obviously terrified, apparently unable to move.  
  
"This is what you get for crossing Norman Osborn," hissed the Goblin as he lined up one of his finger blasters with Kingsley's head. One good shot and he'd be dead instant--  
  
A razor bat sliced through the air in front of his face. He whirled to the left. There, above him, was--  
  
"THE HOBGOBLIN?!"  
  
***  
  
*I wonder where Hobby's disappeared to,* mused Spider-Man as he swung through Manhattan. *Haven't heard anything from him in a couple of days.* He stopped for a moment to perch on his favorite gargoyle, and as he did so, the sound of a news bulletin filtered up to him from the electronics store below.  
  
"This just in, the notorious supervillain known as the Hobgoblin appears to be doing battle with fellow villain the Green Goblin, at the top of the Kingsley Building. All bystanders in that area are encouraged to evacuate..."  
  
Spidey put a hand to his head. *Norman Osborn is back AGAIN? And he's fighting the Hobgoblin? I'll be lucky to swing away from this one with my webs intact.* He refilled his web-shooters with some new cartridges, jumped off the gargoyle, and began to swing towards the Kingsley Building.  
  
To be continued... 


	4. ThreeWay Clash

The Green Goblin wasted no time in retaliating, firing his finger blaster. "This blast would have killed Kingsley...it will prove just as fatal to you, you impostor!"  
  
The Hobgoblin darted several feet to the left. "Your aim is as bad as your planning, you unimaginative boor!" He hurled another razor bat, which his opponent easily dodged.  
  
"Unimaginative? You call me unimaginative? YOU, who could not even think of your own costumed identity but had to resort to becoming a second-rate shadow of myself?!" He threw a pumpkin bomb. The other fired his own finger blaster, detonating the projectile in midair.  
  
"I, who have done more with your equipment and formula than you ever dreamed of! You, Osborn, will be remembered by history as nothing more than the springboard from which the Hobgoblin launched his illustrious career!"  
  
***  
  
Spider-Man webbed his way downtown, desperately trying to reach the site of the battle. He just prayed that no innocent bystanders had been hurt yet.  
  
Several minutes later (though it seemed far, far longer) he arrived at the Kingsley Building. He shot himself upward. It appeared as if the glass on the top floor had been blown out by one of the goblins, who were currently circling and throwing everything in their bags of tricks at each other. As he neared, he could see a panicked Roderick Kingsley, sitting on the floor, staring horrified at the two madmen battling outside his shattered window.  
  
Peter internally steeled himself. He'd almost rather face the entire Sinister Six than either of the goblins, and as for BOTH of them, well...maybe Galactus would come to town or something, that would provide him with an easier fight.  
  
Oh well...nothing to be done but just leap in with both feet. Literally.  
  
"Hey! Squash for brains!"  
  
The two turned to face him, and he kicked them both in the face.  
  
"SPIDER-MAN!" they yelled simultaneously. "You accursed meddler, don't interfere!"  
  
If it wasn't so deadly serious, it would have been funny. He swung into Kingsley's office, grabbed the startled executive, and made a tremendous leap for the door. "Kingsley! Get out of here!" Before he could reply, Spidey had thrown him through and slammed it behind him. His spider-sense flared, and he instinctively jumped to the right, just as a pumpkin bomb exploded where he had been standing. Acting without even needing to think, he zig-zagged across the room back towards the window, as bombs went off everytime he touched the ground.  
  
***  
  
"Spider-Man is mine, and mine alone!" snarled the Green Goblin, darting forward on his glider and punching the Hobgoblin in the head. "I have a personal score to settle with him!"  
  
"All scores are personal, Osborn!" replied the Hobgoblin, momentarily lifting a leg to kick him in the chest. "And before the day is done, I shall have settled two of mine! You and the web-slinger shall both be dead, and the name of the Hobgoblin shall be feared even more throughout this city!"  
  
"More?" said Spidey, rejoining the battle. "Whaddya mean MORE? The name of the Hobgoblin has never been feared, just mocked!" *That's it, Spidey,* he thought to himself. *Keep up the taunts. Don't let them know how scared you are.*  
  
"You can't fool me!" said the Green Goblin. "I can tell how scared you are behind your brave words and empty bravado! Just like the day I unmasked you!"  
  
"Unmasked?!" roared the Hobgoblin suddenly. "You know who he is?"  
  
"Oh, yes...I know the wall-crawler's greatest secret!" said Osborn in a mocking, sing-song voice. "Remember that day?"  
  
***  
  
Peter Parker remembered that day all too well. He'd come home from giving some pictures to his boss, J. Jonah Jameson of the Daily Bugle, when suddenly the Green Goblin had come a'calling, literally out of the clear blue sky, swooping down in front of him, positioning himself between Peter and his home.  
  
"The Green Goblin!! You--You've found me!" he'd said, out of sheer shock.  
  
"Correct, Parker!" the villain had responded. "Your web-slinging masquerade is finally finished--and so are you--SPIDER-MAN!" And it looked as if his words might have been the truth. He'd had his opponent at such a disadvantage that the first round of their fight had ended with Peter, tied up, being hauled off through the air by the Goblin on his glider. At his hideout, the maniac had revealed that he'd discovered his secret identity by temporarily dulling his spider-sense. And then, he'd revealed his own secret identity...  
  
"Take a look, Parker--a good, long look--it's the last face Spider-Man will ever see--it's the real face of the Green Goblin--the face of Norman Osborn!"  
  
"Those features!! That name! Of course--you're related to my own classmate!! You're Harry Osborn's father!"  
  
***  
  
Norman Osborn's knowledge of his secret identity, though it would come and go with the changings of his damaged mind, would prove to be one of the most fateful calamities of his entire life. He had recently used it to almost ruin his life, culminating by inducing premature labor in his wife which caused their baby to miscarry. He had vanished in a huge explosion of his own pumpkin bombs after their last battle--bombs he had planned to use to kill all of Peter's closest friends--and the wall-crawler had hoped that he was finally dead forever, but deep in his heart, he'd known he was still alive and simply waiting for the right moment to return and torment him yet again.  
  
But the Hobgoblin had decided to strike first. And now two of his worst enemies--only Doctor Octopus, and perhaps Venom and Carnage, could compete with them for the title--were fighting each other, with him in the middle.  
  
Joy.  
  
He began to press his metahuman agility and spider-sense to their limits, swinging around the two Goblins and avoiding their energy blasts, pumpkin bombs and razor bats while trying to get in a punch or kick whenever he could, which wasn't often. He spent more time webbing up debris from the many explosions, making sure it couldn't injure any bystanders who were gawking up at the battle.  
  
*Move, you idiots!* he thought as he kept some steel of the Kingsley Building in place right above some spectators. *Haven't you seen enough super-powered nutjobs beating each other up to last you a lifetime?*  
  
Suddenly his spider-sense flared, but he was occupied by his 'repair job,' and was unwilling to swing away until it was done. He finished applying the webbing, but before he could move, a stray energy blast from one of the Goblins' gauntlets struck him in the back. Stunned, he let go of his webbing and made a leap to the giant windows, clinging to them for support. As he got his breath back, he watched the battle between the two flying maniacs. Incredibly, they both seemed to have forgotten about Spider-Man and were concentrating on finishing each other off. He half would have liked to just sit back with a big bag of popcorn and watch the fight, hoping they'd take themselves both out. But he had a higher obligation than that.  
  
*It ends today. Osborn, I'm finally bringing you to justice, for Gwen's sake and everyone else you've hurt. And Hobgoblin, you're coming too...and I'm finally learning out who's under that mask.*  
  
He swung back into the fray.  
  
To be concluded... 


	5. Squared Defeat

Had this been any other villain, the Hobgoblin would have suggested a truce. Surely, he would say, they would have much more to gain by joining forces and finishing off Spider-Man than in this feud of theirs.

But this wasn't any other villain. This was Norman Osborn, the original Green Goblin, who surely would not rest until his successor was dead. Kingsley knew that as long as Osborn was alive, he wasn't safe. He was much more of a threat than that arachnid; at least he could be sure that Spider-Man wouldn't try to kill him.

He'd fought with that in mind, as well. Every pumpkin bomb he hurled or sparkle blast he'd fired had been aimed carefully, so that even if the Green Goblin had dodged them, they would cause maximum collateral damage. He was ruining his skyscraper, he knew, but his insurance and Damage Control could take care of that later. The important thing was, the more debris he sent raining toward the crowd, the more occupied Spider-Man would be trying to save the gawkers, leaving him free to concentrate on Osborn.

Perhaps he'd be able to wrest the secret of Spider-Man's true identity from the Green Goblin, before his death...

Spider-Man's brain was working overtime. *Who should I go after first? Osborn needs to be brought to justice, but I might never have a better opportunity to unmask the Hobgoblin.* It didn't help that he couldn't decide which of them was more dangerous toward the city at large.

*Well, nothing for it then. I'll just go with the flow and take whatever chance I can get.* He swung in towards the dueling goblins from the side. He was carrying a large websack full of broken glass and other debris. He'd normally be hesitant to use a potentially dangerous technique like this, but these weren't your garden-variety goofy supervillains like the Gibbon or the Ringer. The sack was at the end of a webline, and he swung it in a long, sweeping arc. It came in from behind the Hobgoblin, who was hit by it, toward the Green Goblin, who was clipped by it. Osborn flew off to one side, laughing as he dodged the full impact of the blow.

"Spider-Man!" the Hobgoblin snarled, as he regained control of his glider. "I'm offering you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Flee now and I'll let you live!"

"Sorry Hobby!" the web-slinger replied. "I get once-in-a-lifetime opportunities every day! Normally as junk mail!" He tossed the websack onto a nearby low roof and swung toward him, trying to end the fight quickly while his opponent was at a disadvantage, but his spider-sense flared before he could regain the initiative. He snapped his head to the side, and saw Norman Osborn hurling two pumpkin bombs. They were thrown with a precision a Major League Baseball player would envy, at the place where Spidey and the Hobgoblin would meet.

Spider-Man let go of his latest webline and hung in mid-air. He shot two webs, snagging both bombs. Holding both lines in one hand, he spun them around like bolas, swinging the bombs back toward the Green Goblin. Osborn was able to dodge this, the bombs exploding harmlessly to one side, but he couldn't dodge the Hobgoblin's retaliatory salvo, and a sparkle blast caught him square in the chest.

"You damnable impostor!" He clutched at his chest, wincing in pain. "Until today, I never knew I could hate anyone as much as that wall-crawler! Your death shall be more painful than you can imagine!" The Hobgoblin merely laughed in return, zooming towards him, eager to press his newfound advantage, hurling a swarm of razor bats.

Clinging to the wall of the Kingsley building, Spider-Man caught a quick breath. He glanced down at his foes. The Green Goblin covered his face with his arms, protecting it as he flew right through the bats, a move no sane combatant would ever try. He closed to grappling distance and began to exchange blows with his counterpart, each superstrong punch echoing through the street.

And suddenly Peter saw a way to end not just the fight, but perhaps the careers of the two villains, permanently. But he'd have to act fast, or he'd lose his window of opportunity. He crawled down the skyscraper as fast as he could, then jumped up at the goblins from below. They were too occupied in their own private high-altitude boxing match to notice, until he ripped out the guts of their gliders.

The power to them died almost instantly, and the startled goblins were forced to use them as actual gliders, controlling their descents as best they could, making for the pavement. Normally the last thing Spider-Man would do would bring a fight like this closer to civilians, but in this case, he had no choice. This had to be seen by others.

Fortunately, even a curious Manhattan crowd knew better than to stay in the way of two crashing supervillains, and they pulled back out of their way. Before either could recover, the wall-crawler took careful aim, and fired perhaps the most significant weblines of his life since the one that doomed Gwen Stacy. The lines struck both their masks, and he tugged with all his might.

And the masks came off.

In front of a huge crowd, including photographers and news reporters. They saw the evidence with their own eyes, recorded it for eternity and broadcast it for an audience of millions.

Peter's colleague Ben Urich had written a popular book, LEGACY OF EVIL, that had accused Norman Osborn of being the Green Goblin, but for the first time, they had incontrovertible proof.

And as for the Hobgoblin...

*Is that-wait, is that Roderick Kingsley? But didn't I just save him a few minutes ago?* Then Spider-Man remembered. *Of course, Kingsley's supposed to have a twin brother! I can't tell which is which, but I'm sure the cops'll be able to!*

Before Osborn and Kingsley could recover from the shock of their identities being revealed, before Spider-Man himself had fully processed it, the hero was on the ground. He was no Quicksilver, but he could move at superspeed if he had to, and he did so now, running in circles around the two, spinning thick weblines. He webbed them together, back-to-back. He emptied his cartridges, and refilled his web-shooters, then emptied those as well. He wasn't taking any chances that they could break-out. This would be enough to hold the Thing in place.

"YOU'RE RUINED!" Osborn howled. "Do you hear me, Spider-Man? Before the day is out, the world shall know who really lurks behind your mask! They'll know the full secret of Pe-mmfmmghhh mffh!"

He had been changing cartridges again, and had webbed Osborn's mouth shut just in the nick of time, or so he hoped. Kingsley was shooting suspicious glances between his two foes; Spidey knew he was quite intelligent and cunning, and he fervently hoped that the Hobgoblin couldn't take that little syllable and start putting two and two together. *The last thing I need is TWO superstrong murderers dressed for Halloween who know who I am.*

As to what would happen when Osborn was in police custody and the webbing had worn off...who knew. Perhaps Osborn would change his mind and keep it a secret, but if not...well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it. A visit to Matt Murdock might be in order, to see if he could slap Osborn with a gag order or something. And as for Kingsley, he was also sure that when the police and Betty Brant compared notes, they'd work out the exact details of how he had framed poor Ned Leeds.

But speaking of bridges...there was a visit he had to make now to one very special bridge...

EPILOGUE

That night, one shadow moved at Ryker's Island, darker than the rest. This was the temporary super-powered criminal holding wing, reinforced just enough to hold supervillains on a short-term basis until they could be transferred to a more secure facility.

It was very good at keeping those who were in from getting out.

It was not so good at keeping those who were out from getting in.

The shadow danced lithely, avoiding sensors and camera line of sights with the ease of an accomplished ballet dancer. It reached the most recently occupied cells. Both Norman Osborn and Roderick Kingsley had passed the jail's quick test that verified them as being superhuman, and after being read their rights, had been hustled into their cells without being allowed to speak to anyone else (Osborn's web-gag had still been in place), a drastic measure that the courts had ruled in favor of for imprisoned superhumans. They could contact their lawyers tomorrow.

The two were each asleep, stirring slightly on their cots, dressed in jail jumpsuits instead of the business outfits or colorful goblin attires they preferred.

The shadow knew there was only one chance at this, but one would be enough. Two small devices flew through the air, into the cells, and landed on Kingsley and Osborn's bare skin.

The devices had been "borrowed" from the Baxter Building, where Reed Richards had invented and stored them. Gaining access to there was only a little harder than getting into Ryker's; this particular incarnation of the Baxter Building was still new, and the Fantastic Four's security wasn't fully up to snuff yet.

The shadow grinned in the darkness, baring teeth that would put many observers in mind of those of a cat. The machines were very specially-tuned mind-wiping machines. They could erase just one fact-and when they woke up, neither Kingsley nor Osborn would have any clue in the slightest as to what Spider-Man's true identity was. The devices would dissolve into vapor within a few minutes.

The visitor knew that Peter would object to this, that he would speak out even for the rights of monsters like these. But that was how the shadow liked it; he was best when he was noble and pure of heart. There were others who could take care of those darker deeds that had to be done for his sake.

The shadow turned to depart. The spider had married someone else, but he always left a large impression on his former lovers.

A few minutes later, a dark form swung away from the jail, letting out a loud, feline laugh. 


End file.
